


Grind Down My Corners

by riots



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 14:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2431961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riots/pseuds/riots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What are you, a teenager? Aren't there better ways to get out of this than faking gay marriage? You're being dramatic."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grind Down My Corners

Chanyeol shifts uncomfortably, pulling at his cuffs. He really doesn't want to be here. Jongin doesn't much care. A promise is a promise. "I don't see why I have to help you piss off your dad," Chanyeol mutters. He smooths his palms down his black dress pants, and Jongin knows it's more to occupy his hands than to straighten any imaginary wrinkles.

Jongin fumbles with his grey tie. "You owe me," he points out. He's so terrible at this dressing up business. Why can't he just go without? He glares at his tie and gives up, letting his arms drop and exhaling noisily. "And he doesn't like you anyway."

"This is a terrible idea," Chanyeol tells him. Jongin just kind of grunts in acknowledgement. He narrows his eyes at his reflection. He could swear his untied tie is mocking him.

Long arms reach around Jongin's shoulders, startling him, and Chanyeol's graceful fingers lace the silk up with ease. "Terrible idea," Chanyeol says again. When he's done, he rests his hands on Jongin's shoulders for a second, surveying his handiwork. "What are you, a teenager? Aren't there better ways to get out of this than faking gay marriage? You're being dramatic."

Jongin freezes under the solid weight of Chanyeol's grip and swallows."Yeah, well," he says weakly, watching as Chanyeol turns away to grab his suit jacket. "This is the best way to do it all in one fell swoop." He does his best to turn his attention away from Chanyeol's long, lean silhouette in that suit, and instead examine his own reflection.

He looks pretty good, he thinks. If there was anything he absorbed from his father's incessant harping about his image, it was the importance of a well-tailored suit. He smooths a stray hair into place and straightens his tie one last time, definitely not thinking about Chanyeol's hands on him.

"You're such a kid," Chanyeol says. He's frowning at his hair, pulled up in a surprisingly delicate way. If you pushed Jongin, he might begrudgingly admit that he likes it like that, likes the way it makes Chanyeol look kind of like something out of a fairytale. Not that he'd tell him.

"Am not," Jongin grumbles. Chanyeol's jacket is askew and Jongin reaches out without thinking to pull his lapels straight. He digs in his pocket for the borrowed wedding bands, holding one out to Chanyeol. "C'mon. We're about to pass 'fashionably late' and hit 'missing the first course'." He slides the ring on and only takes a second to look at it. He wants to piss off his dad, not miss out on a free meal.

They're both a little tense on the drive over. Jongin grips the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white and Chanyeol fidgets, playing with the radio until Jongin finally slaps his hand away and glares at him. “Don't touch that,” Jongin tells him. “I have everything set up just how I want it.”

Chanyeol snorts. “Is it really that important to have exactly the right volume and bass –” Jongin glares at him and Chanyeol halts, holding his hands up in defeat before tucking them under his armpits. “Okay, okay.” His tone is gentler, and Jongin frowns, rubbing his thumbs against the leather of the steering wheel.

When they get out, Jongin tosses the keys to the valet, instructing him to be careful with it. The man pauses before responding, watching the decisive way that Chanyeol laces his fingers with Jongin. "Will do, _sir_." Jongin turns his eyes on him, lets all of his contempt leak through his expression. The man swallows hard, ducking out of his gaze and into the car. Jongin probably shouldn't feel this satisfied, but. Well.

It's the walk into the restaurant that's more stressful. Jongin's used to dinners being at his parents' house, but of course this week has to be a special occasion, celebrating some big deal his father settled.

Jongin's also used to his father's disapproving eyes, but he's not accustomed to the way that everyone at the table turns to watch them come in, eyes focusing on where Chanyeol's big hand grips his. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. "C'mon, Jongin," Chanyeol says, speaking through his teeth. He's pasted on his best spell-binding grin, and Jongin can tell it's already wearing down some of his aunts. "This was your idea. Don't tell me you're pussying out?"

Jongin throws him a dark look. The challenge has steeled his nerves, and the spark in Chanyeol's eyes tells him that's just what he'd intended. "Not on your life," he replies. Chanyeol squeezes his hand, and together, they walk to greet Jongin's family.

There's definitely a bit of an uproar at his announcement. His grandmother faints. His mother wails for a bit at getting no grandchildren. The attention is kind of overwhelming, and Jongin wonders if the end result, finally being free of the biweekly family dinners and obligations, is worth all of this pressure and all of the scolding. Strangely enough, Chanyeol's hand against the small of his back anchors him, and his blinding smile takes the sharp edge off Jongin's tension.

When he finally talks to his father, he does shrink, just a little, under his gaze. " _Him_?" his father asks. "You decide to get married, with no warning, to another _man_ , and you choose _him_?" His father's never liked Chanyeol. Chanyeol is noisy and clumsy, a hand-talker with little control over what his limbs actually do, and he causes damage to his parents expensive house every time he visits. He doesn't have a real job, and he's skating through college on sheer luck. That's kind of what made him perfect for this. They're not even really good friends.

Chanyeol's hand slides to wrap, secure, around Jongin's hip, and Jongin looks up at him for a second. His stomach clenches, and he looks back at his father again hastily. "He's who I want," he says firmly. Jongin's never been a good liar, but that sounds pretty damn convincing, even to him. Oh no.

His father's mouth twists, and that must be it, because he launches into a long, hissed lecture about how Jongin's an eternal disappointment, the black sheep of their family. It's nothing new, but it's easier to take this time, because he knows it'll end in freedom from suits and stuffy meetings, and because Chanyeol's fingers dig into his hip.

He even bends to murmur in Jongin's ear when Jongin's father pauses to take a breath. "What a dick. No wonder you're willing to fake a marriage." Jongin has to bite his lip to stop himself from smiling.

They escape after dessert, heading out into the cool evening air so that Jongin can have a cigarette. Even tucked into a nook outside the building, Chanyeol keeps a firm grip on Jongin's hand. It makes it hard for Jongin to fish in his pocket for his cigarettes and harder still to light one. "You don't have to do that anymore," he points out, and Chanyeol blinks at him for a second. "I mean, unless you're getting a bit attached." Jongin smirks.

"Oh," Chanyeol says, letting Jongin's hand drop. "Yeah. Right."

In the yellow glow from the streetlight, Jongin can see a pink flush spreading across Chanyeol's cheeks. He takes a shaky drag off his cigarette, and tries not to enjoy the way Chanyeol is watching him from the corner of his eye, or the light that glints off his borrowed wedding band.

 

 

-

 

 

Jongin hunches over his coffee cup, doing his best to swallow back his yawn. It's noon and he still hasn't managed to wake up properly. Lucky for him, his cousin is definitely more than awake enough for the both of them. And he's paying.

“That was a neat stunt you pulled the other night,” Joonmyun says casually. He's wearing a wide smile and this hideous wool sweater that rubs Jongin the wrong way. Sometimes Jongin wonders how anyone lets him wander out in public. “I never knew you and Chanyeol were so close.” His eyes are knowing, and a bit amused. “Or that you were that desperate to get out of our family dinners.”

Jongin frowns down at his cup. “It was a last resort,” he admits. It wasn't like he hadn't _tried_ to do things more conventionally. His father simply refused to take no for an answer. As the only son, he was required to show up and sit at his father's right hand, whether that involved listening to his aunties cooing about how tall he's gotten or making small talk with the daughter of whatever businessman his father's trying to impress. “I just...wanted to make sure it stuck this time.”

Joonmyun nods. “And you just had to make a big dramatic announcement, right?” Jongin eyes him darkly over his coffee cup and Joonmyun holds up his hands. “You have to admit, it _was_ pretty dramatic.” He should've known that Joonmyun would scold him, ever the responsible one, the dutiful one. It wasn't like the hysterics of his grandmother were _his_ fault. Jongin can feel his face pulling into an expression dangerously close to a scowl.

“That was kind of the point,” he grumbles. And it was – he was betting on the fact that a declaration like that, in public, at his father's celebration dinner, would ruffle enough feathers that he'd be banished from being seen with them again.

Joonmyun pauses carefully before he speaks. “It's a shame that it didn't work.” He won't meet Jongin's eyes and he toys with his mug. “They want to try to meet you halfway.”

Jongin chokes and spits a mouthful of hot coffee into his lap. Joonmyun is immediately on his feet, a fistful of napkins in his hands as he rushes to dab at the mess. “They what?” Jongin asks weakly, wiping at his lips with the back of his hand. His mouth is dry.

Frowning, Joonmyun manages to clean up most of the spill, but Jongin's jeans are still damp and a tiny bit sticky. “They want to _try_ , get to know your new husband,” Joonmyun repeats apologetically as he slides into his seat again. Jongin opens his mouth and then closes it, helplessly. This was supposed to be a one time deal. Since when was his family so forgiving? “Your sisters talked your father down. They can be very persuasive.”

Jongin groans and lays his head down on the tiny cafe table. This isn't happening. This is so not happening. “What am I going to do?” he whines, eyes closed. There's no way Chanyeol will agree to play the part a second time. He's screwed.

“You probably should have thought of that before you set this plan in motion,” Joonmyun points out, not unsympathetically. Jongin hates it when he's right. Leaning back in his chair, Joonmyun regards him steadily. “What _are_ you going to do?”

Jongin covers his head with his arms. “I don't know,” he says mournfully, voice muffled. He twists to squint up at Joonmyun through a gap between his fingers. “Will you help me?”

He sighs heavily, but the way that Joonmyun's mouth twists tells Jongin all he needs to know. “I don't know what you expect me to do,” he says.

Neither does Jongin. “Anything.”

“You need to talk to Chanyeol, I think,” Joonmyun says. He drains his coffee cup and sets it down, eyebrows raised. “It's either that or confess to your parents that you lied, found a fake husband, and made a great big scene because you don't like wearing suits.” Jongin pales. Both options sound pretty terrible right now. He's fresh out of favour owed and he doesn't want to face his father's wrath.

Sometimes he kind of hates Joonmyun's tone, that tiny edge of smugness that says _if you'd just listened to me in the first place, if you'd just followed the rules, none of this would have happened_. He _knows_ it's all his fault. That doesn't make it suck less.

Jongin sits up, sighing heavily. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and toys with it. “This sucks,” he mutters, shifting in his seat. His jeans are still damp and cold now, clinging to his legs uncomfortably. Joonmyun nods. “What if I just sign up for my two years of service instead?”

It's an idle suggestion, and a bit of a desperate one. He doesn't want to have to ask Chanyeol for help again, he doesn't want to owe him anything. Most of all, though, he doesn't want to think about the shift of heat that runs through his belly when he thinks about the press of Chanyeol's big hand on his back.

“I think you'd hate that just as much,” Joonmyun points out. At least he's nice enough to hide his smile behind his hand. “Face it, Jongin. You're going to have to keep it up a bit longer.”

“I know, hyung,” Jongin grumbles.

His phone vibrates in his hand, and a quick glance tells him it's from Chanyeol. _disapproving daddy cut you off yet?_

Jongin stares down at the screen long enough that he almost misses Joonmyun climbing to his feet. He's shaken out of his thoughts by the pressure of a hand on his shoulder. “I've got to get back to work. Tell me what you decide, and I'll back up your story.”

He always could count on Joonmyun, Jongin thinks as he lays his hand briefly on top of Joonmyun's. He manages a grateful smile and then turns back to his phone as Joonmyun heads off. Looks like he's got some planning to do.

 

 

-

 

 

Chanyeol only agrees to meet up with Jongin after Jongin begrudgingly agrees to pay for his drinks that night, and when Jongin finally gets around to asking him, he erupts in hysterical laughter. “You have got to be kidding me,” Chanyeol manages, one hand pressed to his chest as he gasps for air. He nearly knocks over his beer while he's laughing helplessly, which is too bad. Jongin was kind of hoping for it to happen. Karma.

“No,” Jongin says uncomfortably, his shoulders hunching forward. Chanyeol is totally playing it up. It's not _that_ funny.

“They liked me,” Chanyeol says, a bit smug. “That's why. I bet they like me better than you.” When he leans back on the bar, his elbow hits his beer bottle and he barely manages to catch it before it spills everywhere.

Jongin wrinkles his nose, looking at Chanyeol as he takes a sip from his bottle. “You can have them,” he says. He has to steel himself, clenching his teeth and swallowing before he can ask again. He really hates having to beg. “Will you do it?”

He doesn't like the way that Chanyeol looks at him then, head tipped and eyes thoughtful. His honey blond hair needs a trim, long bangs hanging almost long enough to touch his eyelashes. “Wouldn't it just be easier to tell them?” he asks. His beer rests on his thigh and Jongin can see the ring of moisture darkening his jeans. “I mean, this seems like a lot of work. Man up, just tell them you don't like playing dress up.”

“Bit late for that,” Jongin admits. “I really didn't – I thought it'd work.” Chanyeol hums in acknowledgement, lips wrapped around the mouth of his beer bottle. “Just do me this favour, alright? I can, I don't know, I can pay you for it.” He's definitely not watching the way that Chanyeol's throat works as he swallows. He's not.

Chanyeol looks offended, slaps his beer down with a bang. “You'll pay me?” he asks indignantly. “Dude, if you're looking for a 'happy ending', you're gonna have to look elsewhere.”

Jongin flushes. “That's not – that's not what I meant!”

“Are you sure?” Chanyeol's grin is broad and shit-eating.

“Oh, fuck off,” Jongin grumbles.

Chanyeol tosses his bangs out of his eyes with a flick of his head. “Now, is that anyway to talk to your fake husband?” he laughs. “I thought you were trying to convince me to go another round, anyway.”

“I want a divorce,” Jongin tells him. He drains the rest of his beer and squints at the bottle. He wishes that he'd picked someone less infuriating for this, someone who didn't push all his buttons and set off a kind of heat in his chest. He can't tell if it's anger or – well, maybe something else. “Please, hyung,” he says, and Chanyeol's smile widens. “What do you want? I need this.”

Chanyeol looks pleased. “Oh, you _need_ me, do you?” he echoes. “I don't come cheap.” He leans towards Jongin, so close that Jongin can smell the remnants of the day's cologne and the beer on his breath. “If we're going to do this, we're going to sell it. You have to _mean_ it.” Jongin has no idea what Chanyeol is even talking about. His brow furrows and he frowns. “I want you to call me oppa.”

For the second time that day, Jongin chokes. This time, he ends up halfway off his bar-stool, bent over and coughing violently. “Oppa?” he gasps, and Chanyeol pats his back soothingly. The weight of Chanyeol's hand is becoming familiar and it's definitely not helping with how light-headed he feels right now.

“Yes, exactly,” he smiles.

When he catches his breath and straightens, Jongin pushes Chanyeol's hand away and glares at him. “I am _not_ calling you oppa,” he declares grimly. He can't imagine anything more humiliating right now.

Chanyeol's shoulders drop, and Jongin could swear he's pouting. “Why not?” He's like a puppy sometimes, so utterly disappointed when someone kills his fun.

“Do I really have to answer that?” Jongin rubs fiercely at his eyes. This is impossible. Maybe he should just sign up for the army. “Look, just – is there something else? Anything else?”

Chanyeol taps his beer bottle against his chin, looking thoughtful. The thing about Chanyeol is, he can be so hard to read. The smile he wears is always there, a constant, rarely wavering, and Jongin's never been good at subtlety. He can't read between the lines, he can't sort out what's going on behind Chanyeol's big brown eyes. That sets Jongin a little on edge around him. He's never sure of his footing, his words don't quite come out right, his chest a little tight.

Jongin can, however, tell when the idea hits Chanyeol because of the enormous, devious smiles that spreads across his lips. His stomach tenses, waiting for the blow. “I want you to say that you love me,” Chanyeol says. “In front of your family.”

Jongin winces. On one hand, it will probably help his cause. His father has always deplored public displays of affection, considers them bad manners. On the other hand, he can't imagine having to declare his love, however fake, for a man, before his family. It's not going to be easy.

“And,” Chanyeol adds. “I want you to kiss me in front of them, too.” He lifts his chin, eyes wide as if daring Jongin to argue. There it is again, that shift of something behind Chanyeol's gaze that Jongin can't decipher.

Jongin gapes openly at him. A kiss. His family would find it obscene. There was no way they would ever invite him back after that. He'd have what he wanted, assured. He'd also be embarrassed publicly, though.

And so would Chanyeol. Jongin squints. “Wait,” he says. “Why can't we just stick to the confession?” He doesn't _like_ the idea but it's safer. Doesn't make his breath catch in his throat.

“Don't you want to make it stick this time?” Jongin trusts Chanyeol the least when he sounds reasonable, logical. Chanyeol's grin has this electric undercurrent to it, and Jongin wonders if the beer is the reason behind why his face feels hot.

That's the million dollar question, though. Does he want it this bad? Jongin waves the bartender over for another beer and watches Chanyeol out of the corner of his eyes. Chanyeol leans back on his elbows, head tipped back, eyes sliding shut. In the dim light of the bar, his profile is clearly outlined, the elegant slope of his nose, the curve of his mouth. When he realizes he's staring, Jongin swallows, hurriedly turning instead to accept his drink.

“Won't you be embarrassed too?” Jongin asks. He's very fixedly staring forward, at the beer in his hand. His palms are sweaty. “I mean. Kissing a guy in front of a bunch of strangers. Strangers in suits and fancy dresses. That's not a good plan.”

He breaks again, sneaking a look to the side. Chanyeol licks his lips. “It's worse for you, though,” he says, and the way that his voice lilts up almost makes it a question. He catches Jongin looking and then the smile is back, the edge to it simultaneously raising Jongin's hackles and sending sparks down his spine. “And that's the important part. Your parents will kill you.” Chanyeol wiggles his eyebrows. “Wanna bet on whether or not grandma faints again?”

Jongin punches him. “You _suck_ ,” he says vehemently. “What the hell, are you trying to kill my grandmother?” He grimaces and Chanyeol just laughs.

“Do we have a deal?” Chanyeol asks.

Tipping his head back, Jongin drains the entirety of his beer. When he's done, he slams the bottle down and wipes his mouth. Chanyeol blinks at him, looking impressed. “Fine,” Jongin sighs. This is probably a huge mistake. He should ask Joonmyun to get him the papers for enlisting, just in case.

Chanyeol whoops and sticks out a hand. “Then you have yourself a fake husband again,” he says. Jongin takes it, lets Chanyeol shake his hand enthusiastically, and tries not to think too hard about the light in Chanyeol's eyes.

 

 

-

 

 

It's just as excruciatingly awkward as Jongin knew it would be.

Jongin had spent the last few hours before lunch tense and unhappy, the anxiety pulling his shoulders painfully tight. They're late, again, although this time it's because when Chanyeol had shown up at his door he was wearing ratty jeans and a sweater. “Jesus,” Jongin had said, rubbing at his neck. “I don't want them to _know_ that I'm trying to piss them off, come on now.” He'd dragged Chanyeol to his room and dug out something more appropriate to be worn to a classy lunch, the two of them squabbling the whole time. “We have to sell it,” Jongin had sneered at Chanyeol, and he got a face-full of dirty t-shirt for his trouble.

When they do show up, Chanyeol fidgeting uncomfortably with the cuffs of a shirt that's a shade too small, Jongin does his best to play it up. He has his arm wrapped around Chanyeol's waist, his fingers tucked comfortably in Chanyeol's front pocket. He hopes it looks casual. His father sits at the head of the table, and he doesn't look pleased, and the same uneasy tension is setting in in Jongin's stomach. He tries not to pull inward, squares his shoulders and pastes on a tight smile.

His oldest sister sweeps up with his mother, and he tries to listen to the small talk, he really does, but he can feel his father's gaze on him and it's making him wilt.

“Your dad really does a number on you, doesn't he?” Chanyeol asks softly. His voice is entirely too close to Jongin's ear and he hooks his arm securely around Jongin's shoulder. Jongin wants to make a face, push him away, but he needs so badly for this to work and it's so easy to just lean into the security of Chanyeol's arm.

“I'm fine,” Jongin insists, but part of him wonders if that's true just because of Chanyeol's presence.

When they finally sit down to eat, mingling done, Jongin's father is short with him, tight-lipped and disapproving. That's alright, though; Chanyeol has more than enough presence to make up for it. Jongin is surprised by how smoothly Chanyeol starts up conversation with the auntie he's seated beside. He's loud, and Jongin has to punch him in the thigh to remind him to tone it down, but he's astonished at the way Chanyeol has his mother laughing. He's never seen anyone win her over so quickly.

The food arrives, and Jongin makes sure to compliment his mother on her choice of venue. He's always liked this place, liked the western style lunches they served. It's a nice change of pace.

He's about to dig in to his food when Chanyeol tugs his knife and fork out of his hand. “Here,” he says, and there's a glint to his eye that Jongin doesn't like. “Let me get that for you, baby.” Across the table, his grandmother clears her throat, and then Chanyeol is dragging Jongin's plate towards him. He begins to cut Jongin's meat into small, bite-sized pieces, all the while keeping up his conversation with Jongin's sister about a certain beach in Jeju they've both visited.

Jongin can't help the way that he turns and eyes Chanyeol, just this side of a glare. He knows he's not hiding his irritation well. “How thoughtful,” he grits out through his teeth, and Chanyeol beams at him, all smug. Jongin's infuriated, by Chanyeol's dumb smirk and the way it sets a flush creeping up from under his collar.

“You're welcome,” Chanyeol says, carefully pushing Jongin's plate back in front of him and patting his hand. Jongin is not going to make it through the dinner. He's going to take Chanyeol into the bathroom and strangle him with his bare hands. This was the _worst_ idea. At the other end of the table, Jongin can see Joonmyun bite his lip, trying not to laugh.

It's Jongin's younger sister who finally breaks the tension. “So,” she says, a bit pointedly. He knows she's probably a bit put out that he never told her about dating someone, much less marriage. “This all happened fast. What...brought that on?” Her gaze falls to Chanyeol's hand and his borrowed ring.

Jongin stops toying with his water glass, tearing his eyes away from where they're stuck on Chanyeol's long fingers and glances over at his father for a second. He pushes his lips wide into a smile and takes Chanyeol's hand. “I love him,” Jongin says, and wow, that was easier than he'd thought it'd be. Just words. Chanyeol looks at him fondly. His eyes are soft and affectionate, and Jongin would almost buy this fake marriage himself, Chanyeol's that good. He swallows with difficulty.

“How sweet,” Jongin's mother says primly. Under the table, Chanyeol squeezes Jongin's thigh. Jongin's about to take it as a gesture of reassurance until Chanyeol's hand slides lower and his long fingers deftly pinch the nerves behind his kneecap. Jongin has to cover his mouth quickly to stop himself from yelping in alarm. Dickbag.

Chanyeol doesn't move his hand away, though, leaves it warm against Jongin's knee while they continue to eat. It's distracting as hell. Jongin pokes his food around on his plate, listening politely to his father talk about business, but all he can think about is how Chanyeol's fingers reach almost all the way around his knee. It leaves him in the uncomfortable position of not quite knowing whether or not he wants to push him away.

He settles for leaving it. It's all part of the act, right? He looks over at Chanyeol, head tipped back as he takes a sip of wine, and Chanyeol wiggles his eyebrows at Jongin. Jongin hates himself a little bit for the thrill that runs down his spine.

The rest of the lunch is both easier and harder. It's easier to play along with the charade when Chanyeol is at his elbow, all toothy smile. It's like the sheer wattage of Chanyeol's grin takes the edge off of the sideways glances they're getting.

The hard part is how he's becoming hyper aware of Chanyeol. The way his elbow brushes up against Jongin's arm, the low tone of his voice when he laughs, and that hand he never moves from Jongin's knee. He's known Chanyeol for quite a while now, but he's never seen this side of him, the charming ease he has with small talk kind of has Jongin spellbound.

“Oh, there it is,” Jongin's younger sister says, and he glances up at her questioningly. The smile she gives him is fond. “I was just...wondering. But the way you look at him, that is definitely the look of someone in love.”

Jongin's eyes drop to his plate and his ears burn. He's never been any good at acting. “You caught me,” he says weakly. Next to him, Chanyeol laughs softly, and Jongin uses the act of reaching for his water glass to hide the way he digs his elbow into Chanyeol's side. He shifts his knee under the table until Chanyeol's hand slides away.

Lunch wraps up, and Chanyeol has thoroughly enchanted Jongin's mother and most of his aunties. At the far end of the table, Joonmyun gives Jongin a discreet thumbs up, and Jongin can't figure out why. He didn't want them to _like_ Chanyeol, he wanted them uncomfortable enough that he wouldn't be asked back to these huge, biweekly family meals. At least now it's just the time to mingle, and Jongin slips away from his father, grabbing Chanyeol's wrist and dragging him with him. Maybe they can escape early and be done with today.

“You've only done half of the bargain,” Chanyeol points out as they near the door. His hair almost shines in the mid-afternoon sunlight and if Jongin weren't completely turned around by now, that might do it. Chanyeol looks stupid pretty, even if he's still unconsciously shifting in his borrowed shirt. His teeth are white and his smile is wide and between this and the way that Jongin's father gave him the cold shoulder all night, Jongin's head is a bit of a mess. He doesn't know what to think.

“I know,” Jongin grumbles. He lets Chanyeol lace their fingers together, and out of the corner of his eye, he can see his father making noise to leave. He glances up at Chanyeol. “Isn't it enough?” he says, almost pleading. He doesn't even think that today worked, Chanyeol won over most of his family, and he just wants this whole mess to be over. “Can't we just call it a day?”

Chanyeol shrugs. “If you want,” he says agreeably, swinging their hands a little. He's still smiling, but his eyes are doing that thing where they skate every which way but Jongin's direction. When they do zero in on him, it's unnerving. “Do you think you're off now? After today, I mean? Do you think you're cut loose?”

“No,” Jongin admits. He examines the toes of his expensive shoes. His father probably doesn't approve of the way they need a shine.

Abruptly, Chanyeol lets go of Jongin's hand. “Look, if we do it like this, you can still blame me.” Before Jongin can ask him what he means, Chanyeol laughs loudly, loud enough to draw the eyes of half the room, and then he cups Jongin's face in his big hands and leans in to kiss him.

Jongin's world suddenly tilts, and he has to wrap his hands around Chanyeol's wrists to catch himself. His heart stutters in his chest and he ignores the voice at the back of his head reminding him that this is a _fake_ marriage. He's too busy cataloguing the way Chanyeol's lips feel against his, the careful pressure of Chanyeol's fingertips against his jaw.

When Chanyeol pulls away all too quickly, Jongin's left staring at him, hands hovering in the air before he remembers himself and lets them fall to his sides. He feels off-balance, breath a little short, his stomach sinking. He never signed up for this part.

Chanyeol isn't looking at him. His fingers are hooked possessively around Jongin's shoulders and his eyes are fixed across the room, on Jongin's father. There's a defiance to the broad stretch of his smile that sets a tightness in Jongin's chest. “That oughta do it,” Chanyeol says smugly. “Better say your goodbyes. It's time for us to bow out.”

They're quick, and it's not just because Jongin wants to get out of their as fast as humanly possible. Making a scene at two family meals in one week wasn't putting him in anyone's good graces. His father, at least, spares him a terse nod, and Joonmyun grabs his elbow as they're on their way out the door. “Always with the dramatics,” he laughs, covering his smile with a hand. “At least this time it totally worked. Nicely done.”

“Thank you,” Chanyeol says serenely. Jongin eyes him darkly, but it doesn't dampen Chanyeol's enthusiasm. “Time to get the husband home.” If Jongin had his footing, he would have pushed Chanyeol away, snapped at him, maybe. He settles for glaring and letting Chanyeol steer him out of the restaurant.

“You're laying it on thick,” Jongin tells him as they wait for the valet. “Pretty sure that whole kiss was the finishing blow. You don't need to keep it up.” He shrugs out from under Chanyeol's arm.

There's a second's flash where Chanyeol's smile slips and his shoulders drop, but it's only a second. “Hey, do you want to have to do this again?” he asks. The valet holds the door open for him and Chanyeol thanks him, sincerely. “How do you wear this stuff all the time?” Jongin spares Chanyeol a glance as he pulls the car out from in front of the restaurant. Chanyeol unbuttons the top few buttons of Jongin's shirt, grimacing as he pulls on the collar.

“Used to it,” Jongin shrugs. Chanyeol turns to look out the window and Jongin spends far too long focused on the long line of his neck and his exposed collarbones. He needs to stop. He drags his eyes back to the road. “Well, you're free now. You've embarrassed me in front of my family. Happy?”

Chanyeol's grin is lopsided and not nearly up to its usual wattage. It makes Jongin pause. “Sure,” Chanyeol says. “Sure.”

 

 

-

 

 

Jongin hadn't been expecting to hear from his father so soon, but the next day, he gets a phone call. “We should do lunch,” his father says, in that tone of voice that Jongin knows all too well. It's not a suggestion.

On his lunch break two days later, Jongin finds himself gripping his water glass tight enough to make his knuckles almost ache.

It's short and to the point. “I think,” his father says, in that tone that says that this is not a suggestion. “that you and your _partner_ should miss the next few family gatherings.” He takes a careful mouthful of food and doesn't bother to look Jongin in the eye. He never raises his voice, but Jongin can hear the undercurrent of distaste loud and clear. “After all, you should enjoy being newlyweds, right?” Here, he smiles tightly. He never raises his voice, never becomes outright nasty, his tone cool and detached.

“Right.” Jongin supposes that he should be grateful. He knows why his father is doing it. A gay son in a hurried marriage is not something that really falls under 'appropriate' in his father's rule book.

Still, it cuts him to the quick. He doesn't understand it. This is what he's wanted, right from the start. He's not cut out for his parents' world, the clothes and the small talk and all the little rules of how to behave. He chafes under it all, under the pressure of constantly failing his father's expectations. Since he was a kid, all he's wanted is a way out.

And now he has it. It kind of sucks. He thinks it's probably got something to do with the way his dad is talking to him. His dad may not understand him, but he's always loved him. This, though, it's like suddenly he doesn't even know him. His father speaks to him like he's a client, with a polite distance to everything. Jongin digs his nails into his palms and nods. “I understand,” he says, even if there's this dull ache starting up in his ribcage and he's finding it hard to swallow.

When they leave, Jongin doesn't go back to work. He spends the rest of his day wandering around the waterfront instead. The approaching autumn means that the wind has more of a bite to it, but Jongin doesn't mind. He likes the way it feels, pulling at his shirt tails. He abandons his tie on a bench, rolls his sleeves up to his elbows and stuffs his hands in his pockets, directionless.

He keeps pulling his phone out and checking for messages. There's nothing, except for _if u were gonna bail on the afternoon u couldve told me_ from Sehun, and a series of increasingly annoyed texts from Kyungsoo about how he needed him in the office to finish their project. He ignores them both and pockets his phone again, feeling dissatisfied. He's not even sure what he's looking for.

 

 

-

 

 

Jongin blinks at his computer screen and then yawns, rubbing at his eyes. Working at a job he mostly hates is twice as hard when he's this distracted. Since going to dinner with his father his shoulders have been tight with tension, and his head aches all the time. Maybe he'll cut out early for lunch. He checks his email quickly and finds a message from his mother. _Give your father time. I'm sure he'll come around._ He stares at it for a second. He does not want to deal with this right now.

He spins his chair around and is startled when a plastic bag is dropped into his lap. Chanyeol leans against Jongin's desk and waves. “Thought maybe you'd be hungry,” he says. “Spicy, just how you like it.”

The takeout bag in Jongin's lap is warm, and it smells, holy shit, delicious. Jongin frowns, suspicious. “How did you even get in here?” he asks. He eyes Chanyeol warily. The bigger question, of course, is _why_ is he here? Chanyeol has never showed up at his office before, and definitely not with presents like takeout.

Behind Chanyeol, in eery synchronicity, both Sehun and Kyungsoo lean out of their cubicles at the same time to get a look at what's going on. “Just how you like it?” Sehun mouths, raising his eyebrows and smirking. Jongin glares at him.

“It's amazing what this thing can do,” Chanyeol tells Jongin, and he holds up his hand. He's still wearing his borrowed wedding ring. “Sorry, forgot to give it back.” His tone is casual but Jongin is starting to pick up on the tension in Chanyeol's voice. He can't decide whether or not that's a good thing.

Jongin's ring is still sitting in his desk drawer. “What's this for?” he asks, gesturing at the food in his lap. Kyungsoo and Sehun are now openly gaping at the two of them, and Jongin is doing his best to ignore the tiny half-smile on Kyungsoo's lips. He hates it when Kyungsoo thinks he knows something that Jongin doesn't.

Shrugging, Chanyeol tucks his hands into his pockets. “You looked...pretty mad after lunch the other day.” He hunches his shoulders and his teeth dig into his bottom lip. “I didn't want you to like, hate me or something.” It's a peace offering, then.

Jongin's eyebrows crease as he looks up at Chanyeol, and he straightens a little, leaning back in his chair. The smell of the food is starting to flood the office and Sehun's interest has shifted from the giant, gangly fake husband in front of Jongin to the bag in his lap. Jongin knows if he doesn't act fast, he'll end up sharing whether he likes it or not. “Thanks,” he offers up, finally. It feels kind of inadequate.

Sehun is stealthily rolling up behind Chanyeol, and Jongin feels the sudden need to escape. He stands up in a rush, takeout in his hand as he grabs his jacket. “Wanna go for a walk?” he asks Chanyeol. “C'mon.” He catches Chanyeol's wrist in his hand and Chanyeol follows him easily enough.

“Are you coming back this time?” Kyungsoo calls to Jongin's retreating back. When Jongin turns to look at him, that little smile has gotten wider.

Jongin points a finger at him. “We'll see,” he replies.

It's overcast when they step outside, but not uncomfortably cold. Jongin leads them in the direction of a pavilion a few blocks away, with lots of benches. “I didn't know you were the kind of guy that likes picnics,” Chanyeol says.

Jongin swings the bag into Chanyeol's elbow. “Yeah, and long walks on the beach. You should be taking notes.” The words are out of his mouth before he thinks and he ducks his head, clearing his throat.

“Did you forget the 'fake' part of this marriage?” Chanyeol wonders, his eyes sly.

“Yeah,” Jongin glowers. “I got real attached to being married to a muppet with the coordination of a baby giraffe.” Chanyeol just tips his head back and laughs, unaffected, and Jongin wrinkles his nose, pushing Chanyeol towards a bench.

Jongin's shoulders still feel tight, and he still has a headache, but it's a bit easier now that he has someone annoying him enough that he's distracted. “Shut up and eat,” Jongin tells Chanyeol, and he sits down heavily, tearing into the plastic bag when he can't untie it.

They dive into the food, and it's only when they're nearly done that Chanyeol speaks up. “You're quiet,” he says thoughtfully. He uses the back of his hand to wipe sauce from his lips. “Is, uh, something up?”

Jongin and Chanyeol, they've never been super close. He remembers, more than once, going weeks without seeing Chanyeol and barely even thinking about it. When he did run into him at a club, the two of them got wasted together. Chanyeol had hooked one long arm around Jongin's neck and dragged him in, pressing his forehead to Jongin's as he declared, “You are my favourite.” Jongin had laughed helplessly, one hand pressed to Chanyeol's thin chest.

He wonders if anything's changed, really, because of some borrowed rings and a couple of family meals. Chanyeol, at least, seems genuinely concerned, his eyes on Jongin watchful. “I guess,” Jongin says. “I mean, just kind of bummed out? I had lunch with my dad a couple of days ago.”

Chanyeol's eyes widen. “Oh, whoa. How'd that go?”

Jongin throws him a sidelong glance, but Chanyeol is being sincere. “Good, I think?” He hesitates. “He said not to come to any more dinners, so that's a win, right?”

Leaning back on the bench, Chanyeol packs their garbage up and tucks it back into the bag. “There's a but in there. I hear a but.” Jongin snorts and Chanyeol jabs a finger into his side. “Pretend like you're not a fourteen year old boy for a second and finish telling your story already.”

Jongin swats his hand away. “But,” he concedes. “It just kind of sucks that in order for my dad to finally give me some breathing room, I had to make him, like, disapprove of me. Hate me.” Saying it out loud makes it sound even more embarrassing. It's how it feels, though. Just remembering the polite distance in his father's eyes still makes his chest hurt.

“He doesn't _hate_ you,” Chanyeol rolls his eyes. “He probably does disapprove, though.”

“You're helping, really.”

Chanyeol holds up his hands. “Sorry,” he says, looking genuinely contrite. Jongin tucks his chin in against his chest, shoulders hunched. “Look,” Chanyeol says. “Your dad has been making you do those dinners for as long as I've known you, right?”

Jongin nods. “As long as I've been alive,” he mutters.

“He wants you at his side because he's _proud_ of you. You sit at his right hand.” Jongin twists to look at Chanyeol, confused. “Right hand. It means you're his second in command. It's a respect thing.” Chanyeol laughs a little. “Your dad gives you hell about getting into trouble but come on, what's the worst you've done? That one time in high school when you got drunk and broke the TV and puked on his Italian leather shoes? Come on. You're not nearly as bad and you wanna think you are.” He holds a hand up before Jongin can even protest. “You work in an _office_ ,” he says, like that's proof.

And maybe it is, sort of. “Shut up,” Jongin says, no heat behind his words. He stares at his hands for a second, thinking. His dad has shouted at him, called him a disappointment, but this is the first time he's outright shut him out like this, and maybe that's why it hurts the most. If he looks at it from another perspective though, he does have to admit that things don't look so good. He'd showed up at a dinner claiming marriage to a guy, one that his dad has never liked and one that he's never even mentioned being with. If it were real, it would've proven him impulsive and secretive, two traits his father has never liked.

“See,” Chanyeol stretches forward so that Jongin can't avoid looking him in the eye. “I'm right and you know it.” He beams. “Just gotta give it time.” He thumps a hand against Jongin's knee for emphasis and then leaves it there. Despite the faint bite to the fall air, it makes Jongin feel over-heated.

He squints over at Chanyeol. “Since when are you so good with the listening and the advice?” he asks. Chanyeol spends so much of his time acting silly and playing around that Jongin forgets that he's got a sharpness to him, that he's far more observant than he lets on.

Chanyeol shrugs. “Maybe we needed to get married?” he suggests. He straightens up and glances away, but Jongin still hears the thread of tension in Chanyeol's voice and it makes him wonder. “Oh. Speaking of.” Carefully, Chanyeol tugs the gold wedding band off his finger and holds it out to Jongin. “Wouldn't want to forget.”

When Jongin takes it, the ring is still warm from being worn against Chanyeol's skin. “Yeah,” Jongin agrees, closing his fingers around it.

They sit in silence for a few seconds, and then Chanyeol is nudging Jongin with an elbow. “Don't you have to get back to work?” he asks. “The little dude looked pretty stern. Wouldn't want to get you in trouble.” The smile he flashes at Jongin says the opposite.

Maybe it's that smile that prompts Jongin to say, “Walk me back?”

Chanyeol blinks at him for a second, tipping his head as he looks at him. “Afraid you'll get lost?” he smirks. He ducks under the hand that Jongin swings at him, and climbs to his feet. “Well?” Chanyeol wraps a hand around Jongin's wrist and hauls him up. “Come on, muffin, let's go.”

He walks out ahead of Jongin, and Jongin just takes advantage of his momentary drop in guard to plant his hands in the small of Chanyeol's back and shove him. “I'm going to kill you someday,” he vows.

Chanyeol stumbles but recovers, grin still firmly in place. “You are so welcome to try.” They race back to Jongin's office and when Jongin throws his arms up in victory, Chanyeol trips him. He has to spend the rest of the day at work trying to hide the mud stains on his pants from Sehun.

 

 

-

 

 

When Sunday rolls around, Jongin spends half of his evening checking the clock without even really understanding why. It's when the clock ticks over past seven that he realizes that this is when he's normally pulling on something uncomfortable and dreading the drive to his parents' place. This realization leaves him feeling fidgety and unsettled, tapping his fingers nervously against his thigh.

He's had dinner with his family every Sunday night for as long as he can remember, and the sudden absence in his calendar is impossible to ignore. Jongin tries to watch TV, but his eyes keep crawling over to the clock, an uneasy feeling in his chest. He needs to distract himself, burn some of this energy off.

Jongin decides to go on a run as the sun is going down, lacing his sneakers up and forgoing his ipod. Today, he'd rather listen to the thump of his shoes on pavement and his breath in his lungs. He does his best to turn his brain off and focus on the rhythm of his footsteps and the edge of the night wind.

It works, at least for a while. Despite his best efforts, his mind ends up wandering back to his father and the cold way they'd parted.

What Chanyeol had said, Jongin can't deny that it had helped. Jongin had been so focused on feeling like the victim, like his dad had forced his hand, that he hadn't really thought about things from the other perspective. Of course, seeing things the other way round came with its own drawbacks too. Now Jongin was stuck with the growing sense of guilt for letting his dad down.

If Chanyeol was right, if his dad really did see him as his right hand man, someone he respects and trusts to behave like a responsible adult, then Jongin had really gone and messed that up with this whole charade. He'd proven his dad's faith wrong by showing up with a brand new husband. It didn't help things that Chanyeol was a guy Jongin _knows_ his parents don't like, and that he hadn't even mentioned being with someone before this. The whole thing was childish and dramatic. Joonmyun had been right. Jongin frowns at himself, wiping at the sweat beginning to form on the back of his neck. He really never thinks things through.

Lucky for him, Chanyeol was around to point out when he's being an idiot. And that, that kind of makes him pause for a second. Their friendship has always been easy and casual and he never expected that Chanyeol would be the one to step up when he needed someone to talk to. It was...weird. Not unpleasant, just a shift he hadn't counted on.

And if Jongin's being honest with himself, it's not the only unexpected development. He hadn't counted on liking the way that Chanyeol's hand felt, pressed against the small of his back, or the way their hands felt, fingers laced together. Even now, as he pulls his hoodie sleeves down to cover his hands against the night air, the thought makes a flush creep up his neck.

He's been avoiding thinking about this, really, using his conflict with his parents as a shield against it, but he can't hide forever. Sooner or later, Jongin's going to have to sit down and think about how, somehow, in the middle of fake endearments and all the acting, his feelings shifted. The rush when Chanyeol kissed him, that was not acting. That was real.

It takes a few seconds for the enormity of that realization to sink in, and when it does, Jongin stops dead in the middle of the sidewalk. Oh. A woman passes him, running the other way with her dog's leash in her hand, eyeing him with distaste. It makes him shake his head, as if he could physically jog his brain back into motion, and he clears his throat and starts running again.

Something like feelings adds a whole layer of complications that Jongin's not sure he's ready for. It doesn't make any sense to him. Chanyeol drives him _nuts_ , and a good fifty percent of the time when they're together, he wants to strangle him. When did things change, so that the other fifty percent, he kinda wants to be with him?

It's kind of terrifying. It's less terrifying, though, when Jongin thinks about the way that Chanyeol had blushed, after dinner the first time. Or the way his hands had lingered. Jongin's kind of terrible at reading people, doesn't work well with subtlety and body language, but to him, that seems like a pretty good sign. A lot of good signs, really.

As he rounds a corner, on his way back home, Jongin feels a tiny tendril of hope. Of course, it could be all wishful thinking. Chanyeol hides behind that broad smile of his, and he confuses the hell out of Jongin, always has, and Jongin has never been as brave as he'd like. But maybe, maybe this time he can find his balls and go for what he wants. What does he have to lose? A fake husband? Definitely not a friend. Chanyeol won't hold it against him. Would he? He needs to think this over.

He pauses at the door to his building to stretch, and between the adrenaline from the run and the things he's been turning over in his head, he's a bit rattled. The run was supposed to help him stop thinking, and instead he'd gone into overdrive.

When he gets into the shower that night, he rests his forehead against the tiles and sighs. He hopes vehemently that the next time he has an idea that's as completely fucking stupid as faking a marriage, they talk him out of it, because it just leaves him with a headache and a stomach that swoops every time someone in particular turns his smile on him.

 

 

-

 

 

“What?” Jongin says finally, because the weird, suspicious way that Kyungsoo is eyeing him is kind of freaking him out.

Kyungsoo holds his mug tight in his small hands, eyes narrowed. “I can't tell if you're serious,” he tells Jongin. He takes a sip of his coffee and tips his head to the side. “Because that's possibly the most ridiculous story I've ever heard.”

Sighing, Jongin jumps up on the counter and crosses his arms over his chest. The break room is thankfully empty this early in the day, and this means that Jongin could tell Kyungsoo everything without worrying about someone, namely Sehun, overhearing. Kyungsoo has always been more reasonable, and most importantly, less of a dick. “I came to you because I thought you'd take me seriously,” he grumbles.

“In what universe is faking a marriage something that functioning adults do?” Kyungsoo's expression is a mixture of incredulity and fondness.

Jongin tugs Kyungsoo's coffee out of his hands. “Are you done?” he asks. He ignores Kyungsoo's frown and takes a sip. “You're missing the point here.” He sinks down and hunches his shoulders. He's embarrassed enough as is, and Kyungsoo isn't helping anything.

Kyungsoo pats Jongin's knee and then uses his distraction to steal back his coffee. “You're still such a kid sometimes,” he says.

“Hyung,” Jongin says darkly. “This is not advice, this is mocking.” His heels hit the cupboards with a bang.

“It's not that complicated,” Kyungsoo says, and that knowing half-smile is back. Jongin would be tempted to hit him, except Kyungsoo is kind of little and bruises like a peach and he'd feel bad. “You should talk to him. What harm could it do?”

Jongin holds out a hand expectantly, wiggling his fingers until Kyungsoo passes the cup back. “It could ruin our friendship,” Jongin points out.

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “Your friendship with the guy who agreed to be your fake husband because he 'owed' you?” He snorts. “You saved him from getting his ass stomped in the silliest, drunkest bar fight ever, so he agreed to pretend to be _married_ to you.”

“Well.” Jongin opens his mouth and then closes it again. “I mean, when you put it like that.” His stomach lurches, and he hides his growing smile behind Kyungsoo's coffee mug.

“And,” Kyungsoo starts ticking things off on his fingers. “He agreed to play husband _again_ , as long as you _kiss_ him? And then he brought you lunch. Because he didn't want you to be mad at him.”

Jongin holds out the mug to Kyungsoo. “Huh.” Hope sparks in his chest and he tips his head back against the cupboards. There's an idea coalescing in his head.

“Yeah,” Kyungsoo laughs. He drinks down the rest of the coffee in his cup and then pours himself another. “Don't worry, Jongin. It's a lot easier than you think it is.” He reaches up to pinch Jongin's cheek and then darts away again, out of Jongin's reach. “So quit angsting over it and come help me finish this project already.”

Jongin slides off the counter and dutifully follows him. “Alright, alright,” he says, and he grins. “Let's buckle down. I have somewhere to be after work tonight.”

 

 

-

 

 

“Is Chanyeol in today?” Jongin asks, trying to keep his anxiety out of his voice. Chanyeol's equally tall, intimidating boss points Jongin towards the back of the store, looking faintly disapproving. There's a pretty good chance, though, that that's just his face.

As he heads to the back, Jongin waves in greeting to Baekhyun, doing his best to calm his nerves. Baekhyun smiles back cheerfully and tells Jongin, air quotes and all, that “Chanyeol's upstairs, 'organizing' the movies.” Baekhyun's assumption, although right, makes Jongin pause for a second before he nods his thanks and climbs the stairs.

Long legs propped up on movies A-Z, stretched out in a battered chair with his hands folded behind his head, Chanyeol looks perfectly at home in this store. He also looks fast asleep. “Hard at work, I see,” Jongin says, amused. Chanyeol's eyes snap open and he looks around wildly until he spots Jongin, relaxing, eyes softening.

“Hey,” Chanyeol smiles. “I was visualizing.” He points at his head with both hands for emphasis. “Organizing in my head.” He nods with fake solemnity and it makes Jongin snort and roll his eyes.

“I'm sure,” Jongin says drily.

Chanyeol yawns and drags a hand through his shaggy hair. “Did you come to give me a hand?” he asks. He tips his head to the side and wiggles his eyebrows appealingly. “I can supervise. I'm a great supervisor.” He yelps when Jongin punches him in the shoulder. “What!”

“I'm not doing your job for you.” Jongin wrinkles up his nose. “Don't be so lazy.”

With a broad smile, Chanyeol shrugs his shoulders. “It was worth a try,” he says. Sitting up, he pulls his feet down and looks up at Jongin. “So why _are_ you here?” he asks. “Did you have a burning need for –” He grabs a case at random. “The Godfather?” He holds it out under Jongin's nose.

Jongin pushes his hand away. At least his nerves have eased, he figures. “I, uh, I kinda wanted to talk.” He digs his fingernails into his palms and does his very best to look casual.

“Talk?” Chanyeol echoes. His eyes are searching. “Oh. You look all nervous. Did something happen with your dad?” He licks his lips, struggling to find the right words. He settles on, “Are you okay?”

Jongin laughs a little and shakes his head. “No, it's not – I'm fine.” Sort of. His chest is tight and he feels a little shaky, but otherwise, he's peachy keen. He takes a deep breath. He doesn't know how to do subtle, so he might as well go for straightforward. “I was just wondering, you know, why you agreed to do the whole fake marriage thing in the first place. It's not like you owed me a big favour.”

For once, Chanyeol is kind of quiet. “I did owe you, though,” he insists. “Why?”

Jongin's stomach drops and he does his best to bite back his disappointment. So he had read Chanyeol wrong. He'd thought – the way Chanyeol watched him and brought him lunch and the _kiss_ – guess not. Chanyeol is watching him, frowning in confusion, and all of Jongin's nerve vanishes in a heartbeat. Screw this, he's not humiliating himself again in front of Chanyeol. “It's nothing,” Jongin says hurriedly. He shrugs, and flashes Chanyeol a quick smile. “Just, uh, curious, I guess?” Chanyeol's eyes narrow, he doesn't believe a word Jongin is saying, but Jongin is already halfway down the stairs.

This was such a dumb idea. He can't believe he even thought it'd work. He exhales shakily as he moves quickly through the store, rubbing at his eyes. His chest aches and he feels so stupid.

“Jongin.” Chanyeol is calling his name. Jongin doesn't stop. The last thing he wants to do is have to explain himself, have to see the pity on Chanyeol's face. Insult to injury.

“Jongin!” Maybe it's Chanyeol's freakishly long legs, but he catches up with Jongin when he's nearing the front of the store. A big hand around Jongin's elbow stops him dead. “What – ”

Baekhyun is watching them curiously, leaning over the front counter with his chin in hand. Great, Jongin thinks. Now they have an audience. “Look, hyung, I'm late for...something, I don't know.” He tries futilely to pull away, but Chanyeol's grip is surprisingly strong. At least he steadfastly manages not to meet Chanyeol's gaze. “Let me go.”

“You never answered my question,” Chanyeol says, and the tightness in his voice makes Jongin sneak a look at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Just curious,” Jongin repeats stubbornly, and then he could swear Chanyeol just deflates, shoulders slumping and the last remnants of his smile sliding off his face. His fingers relax and Jongin takes advantage of his chance to pull free, but he doesn't leave, not yet. Chanyeol looks like a kicked puppy and Jongin can't stand it. “I just – ” The jittering anxiety is back and Jongin's tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. “When you kissed me, I.”

Chanyeol doesn't say anything, just waits wordlessly for Jongin to remember how to speak again. That's nice of him, Jongin thinks. “Jesus Christ,” he says, flushing. He's such an embarrassment. At least the bright side to his complete inability to act like a human being is the way that the corners of Chanyeol's mouth are starting to turn up again. “Look, the whole 'I love you' thing, I didn't mean that.” When Chanyeol's shoulders start to droop again, Jongin rushes on. “But the kiss, the kiss I meant.”

“What are you saying?” Chanyeol asks quietly. He looks at Jongin expectantly.

Jongin puffs his cheeks out and exhales. Chanyeol is really not making his easy on him. He rubs his sweaty palms together. “I'm saying I liked the whole hand-holding and kissing thing,” he says.

A full-watt grin blooms across Chanyeol's face and that sense of dread Jongin's been fighting off flips into giddy hope. Chanyeol covers his mouth with the back of his hand, but it doesn't disguise the brightness of his eyes. “I don't understand,” Chanyeol says.

Jongin shoves him. “You suck!” He's starting to laugh now. “You're the worst, I change my mind.”

“I lied,” Chanyeol says. He grabs Jongin's hand. “I didn't do it because I owed you.”

“Knew it,” Jongin says, smug. He raises his eyebrows, asking permission, and Chanyeol rolls his eyes, lacing their fingers together.

Chanyeol tugs him in close. “Did you _seriously_ think I'd agree to your dumb plan unless I liked you?” He doesn't give Jongin a chance to even open his mouth to argue. “No, shut up, it was the stupidest plan. A fake gay marriage? Are you fourteen? Come on.”

Jongin flushes. “Well, it worked,” he grumbles.

“Only because of me.” Chanyeol smirks. Jongin wonders if it's healthy that he still wants to hit Chanyeol as much as he used to.

“Oh my god.” Startled, Jongin spins to stare at Chanyeol's boss, Yifan, standing behind the counter. He's rubbing at his forehead, and he glares his irritation at them. “I'm so very, very happy that you've found true love. Are you done with your little moment?” His stern words might have more impact if he wasn't smiling, just a little bit.

Across the room, Baekhyun lobs a crumpled up piece of paper at Yifan's head. “Spoil sport,” Baekhyun declares. The paper bounces off Yifan's forehead and he turns his glare on Baekhyun instead. “Stop being such a wet blanket.”

Jongin buries his face in his hands. Why did he do this in public, again? He's pretty sure he's been embarrassed enough in the past week to last his entire lifetime.

Chanyeol just beams at Yifan. “It's adorable when you try to be scary,” he tells Yifan. He turns back to Jongin with a mischievous look in his eyes. “Wanna make it worse for him?”

“It's like you're not even _trying_ to keep your job,” Jongin tells him, but his smile is irrepressible.

Chanyeol tips his chin up with a hand but it's Jongin that closes the distance between them. This time, it's almost perfect. It's sloppy and wet and Chanyeol bumps his nose up against Jongin's and then both end up laughing into each other's mouths. “You are so uncoordinated,” Jongin tells Chanyeol.

In retaliation, Chanyeol nips at Jongin's nose. “You're so much better?” Jongin feels like his chest might burst, little sparks shooting up his arms.

“Get out,” Yifan tells them both imperiously, interrupting their moment. He points at the door. “Chanyeol, you have the rest of the night off. Take your terrifyingly happy self out of my store.”

“Thanks, duizhang,” Chanyeol says sweetly, and then he's pushing Jongin towards the door. “Quick,” he says in a stage whisper. “While he's still in a good mood.”

Jongin doesn't bother to hide his laughter and lets Chanyeol nudge him out into the cool evening air. He's not brave enough to grab Chanyeol's hand, but he does settle for hooking their pinkies together, and the smile Chanyeol rewards him with is blinding. “ _Now_ will you call me oppa?” Chanyeol asks, and Jongin shoves him, hard.

When he catches his balance, Chanyeol catches Jongin in a headlock and drags him for a few steps, Jongin fighting him the whole way. When Jongin finally manages to pull away, they're both breathless with laughter and grinning.

Jongin is still going to have to sort things out with his family, and the idea of having to explain that he'd lied to them all, more than once, makes him wince internally. His dad took a husband poorly enough, he's not sure he'll take this turn around any better, really. Maybe, though, he'll get points for being honest, even if it is in retrospect.

“What is my dad gonna say when I tell him I want to start dating my husband?” Jongin wonders out loud.

Chanyeol is walking abnormally close to him, his shoulder bumping up against Jongin's. “I'm sure he'll be super proud of how you think outside the box,” he teases. He jumps out of the way of the elbow Jongin jabs at him in retaliation.

“He's gonna be mad,” Jongin says, resigned.

“Yeah,” Chanyeol agrees easily. He skims a hand down the inside of Jongin's arm, brushing skin but not grabbing on, not pushing Jongin too far. It makes Jongin's hair rise. “But we'll figure it out, right? “

And this, Jongin thinks, this might make his stupid idea all worthwhile.


End file.
